


First Sight

by glimmerglanger



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Order 66, background anidala, battlefield romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi was the first man Cody ever saw, outside of his brothers.Waxxer liked to joke that it explained a lot about Cody, usually right before he got cuffed in the back of his head.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 254
Kudos: 2034
Collections: Clones Adore Obiwan, Jedi Journals, hope is like the sun





	First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> I had the first half of this written for almost two years. Figured it was about time I finished it.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the first man Cody ever saw, outside of his brothers.

He was the first man a lot of them saw, really. Cody held no special distinction, there. But Cody  _ was  _ one of the first to see him, looking up from a meal in time to catch sight of the strange, soaking wet figure standing above them, looking down over his brothers with an expression of confusion and worry. 

Afterwards, some of the others argued and claimed that Cody was making things up, because they hadn’t seen this strange man, and what did Cody mean he’d had light hair, light eyes? Geonosis - and all that came after - vindicated him, while introducing an entire galaxy full of people to them.

Humanoids came in all sizes and colors and shapes. They spoke thousands of languages. They all had their own senses of humor, or loyalty, or logic. Many of them were impressive, if only to eyes that had gotten used to seeing the same face every day.

Still.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the first man Cody ever saw, outside of his brothers.

Waxxer liked to joke that it explained a lot about Cody, usually right before he got cuffed in the back of his head.

#

Their education on Kamino had made everything sound so clean and clearcut. They learned tactics. They learned how to use any weapon that might come to hand. They learned how to interact with superior officers, with each other, with civilians - barely.

They would go out, Cody had expected, when thinking about the future on Kamino, and wage war, bring peace and security to the galaxy. He’d had nothing else to base his expectations off of, so when he’d pictured battles, they’d resembled training exercises, where there were clear-cut objectives and when you reached them, everything just… stopped.

War wasn’t like that.

It never stopped. 

They reached an objective, they took a hill, they wiped out a thousand droids, and it was only to find there was another objective - further out, harder to reach - another hill - only this time it was a mountain - and ten thousand more droids waiting.

Cody had been trained to adapt. To rise up to the challenges presented, but no one had ever clearly told them what those challenges were going to  _ be _ , until they were in the field, fighting and dying. Sometimes, he thought they would have been wiped out, entire battalions of them, were it not for the Generals.

General Kenobi kept them alive, pulling plans out of nothing, forcing victories to materialize through sheer will-power, at least at first. Cody and his brothers learned fast. Adjusted to the realities they faced. Learned that victory meant little in the grand scheme of things, except that they got to go fight again.

But during those first battles, those first campaigns, Cody knew who was responsible for the fact that he wasn’t dead, face-down in a ditch somewhere, buried by the bodies of his brothers.

Technically, they were supposed to follow only the orders of the Senate. The Admiralty. In a far more practical sense, on the field of battle, where it really mattered, Cody knew they gave less than a kriff about what the Senate said.

He followed General Kenobi, the flashes of his copper hair and the blue glow of his lightsaber, as they waded through oceans of droids, and he stayed alive.

#

Cody got used to seeing faces that didn’t match his. The sheer amount of them to be seen forced the adjustment to arrive quickly. There was no time to do a double-take each time he spotted someone who was new, intriguing just because they didn’t wear the same face he’d seen his whole life.

So, really, it didn’t make much sense that he kept getting distracted by General Kenobi. It happened anyway, one more thing in the galaxy that didn’t make sense, that he hadn’t been trained to understand. 

His gaze would slip to the hair fallen forward against Kenobi’s forehead and it would make his fingers twitch. He’d find himself watching Kenobi’s mouth when he spoke, or holding his pale eyes for too long. He’d focus on the lines of Kenobi’s hands as they discussed troop movements, all the spots of skin he could see, carefully cataloged, over and over again.

He knew he wasn’t the only trooper who engaged in such behaviors. Plenty of them did. Cody just wasn’t sure exactly  _ why _ they found Kenobi so interesting, or what he was supposed to do to move past it, or if he even  _ was  _ supposed to move past it.

There had been, he came to find, the longer he was in the galaxy, some serious gaps in their education.

#

Cody wanted things he didn’t even have names for, at first. Things he didn’t even have  _ images  _ for. He felt them first - and most enduringly - for Kenobi. He’d feel hot under his armor for no reason, when they stood shoulder to shoulder. His hands would twitch, like his fingers knew what they wanted to do even if he didn’t. His gut would get tighter. Other parts of his anatomy responded in ways that left him standing in the showers afterwards, frankly a bit aghast.

He knew it wasn’t a problem he faced alone. He got  _ questions  _ about handling the issue, which he referred to the medics. He’d visited a medic himself, when it kept happening, and received instruction that left him almost more confused than when he went looking for help in the first place.

Fortunately - or unfortunately, he couldn’t tell - the practical application of the instructions mostly took care of itself, once he gave them a try. His body seemed to know what it wanted, even if he didn’t. He had to brace a hand on the wall the first time he touched the… problem area, his gut clenching hard, muscles in his thighs tensing up.

He bit his bottom lip, aware that there were sounds in his throat, and he didn’t, abruptly, want anyone to find him attempting this solution. Especially not General Kenobi and--

And that thought brought up dozens of memories, the curl of the General’s mouth when he came up with a plan that seemed especially likely to get him killed, the brush of his fingers against Cody’s when he dropped his lightsaber and Cody found it, the way his lashes fell against his cheeks when he was tired--

Cody  _ did  _ make a little sound, when his operation proved successful. He guessed it was successful. Kriff, he had no idea what was supposed to happen, really, but suddenly his hand was messy and he felt half-dizzy, sinking back against the wall and breathing hard. He leaned his head back, panting up to the ceiling, thoughts disordered in the aftermath.

He wondered, absently, if General Kenobi ever performed this maintenance and his anatomy gave another twitch. He’d been designed to be creative, to picture battle plans and outcomes in his mind. Those abilities worked just as well - it turned out - when it came to imagining General Kenobi in his own quarters, bottom lip caught between his teeth, a hand disappearing under his robes.

Cody squeezed his eyes shut. He’d thought this maintenance was supposed to make the problem go away, but, apparently, it wasn’t a one-and-done solution.

Cody found it tricky to look General Kenobi directly in the eyes, the next time they had to discuss battle plans. But he’d faced more difficult tasks. He shoved down the heat trying to climb up his neck, and focused on mastering his expression. He turned all of his attention to war and victory.

No one knew, if his attention sometimes got caught by Obi-Wan’s hands, weathered in a way his were not, but with long, delicate fingers. No one knew, if, later, he helplessly imagined those hands on him, instead of his own, imagining curling his hands into soft robes, turning his face against copper hair, feeling the rasp of a beard against his skin.

He’d had no idea what the beard would feel like - facial hair was against regulations - until they’d been thrown against one another when a transport went down, some weeks past. General Kenobi hadn’t moved, but the rest of them had, Cody slamming into him as the ship tumbled in mid-air.

General Kenobi had steadied him, radiating calm, not complaining when Cody’s cheek bumped his, so close that Cody felt the warmth from his skin. The maintenance proved so successful that his knees sagged when he completed it, and he thought he might sink all the way to the floor, for a moment, before he mastered himself.

#

Cody dreamed about General Kenobi, sometimes. Dreamed the same things he imagined, during maintenance activities, and other things, so vague that he couldn’t remember them in the morning. He wanted, aching with it more deeply and sweetly the longer they worked together.

They were wants he buried, as deeply as he could, for, oh, so many reasons. He had no idea how one was supposed to go about engaging another person in maintenance activities, for one thing. They’d received absolutely no training about such things, though he had a feeling some of his brothers were figuring it out on their own.

Sometimes, men disappeared off into cities or villages, and came back looking vaguely stunned and pleased with themselves. A few brought back trinkets, small little items that they kept like treasure, pulling bracelets or lockets out to look at them between battles, fingers reverent on the tokens.

Cody did his best to make sure the gifts were with them, when they fell in battle and were sent on to whatever came after.

General Kenobi didn’t give him any tokens of affection. Why would he? He didn’t even know that Cody thought about him, more often than not, in his bunk, or in the field, or standing right beside him on the bridge.

But Cody picked up his lightsaber when he dropped it, and felt the weight of it on his belt even after he gave it back. General Kenobi always smiled at him, when he returned it, a fast flash of appreciation and warmth that left Cody’s chest feeling strange. 

General Kenobi laughed, the first time Cody had ever heard him make such a delightful sound, when Cody brought back his robe after a diplomatic mission that turned into one more firefight. Cody had snatched it off of the sand without thinking, slinging it over a shoulder on their way back to the transports.

No one had questioned it. No one asked what he was doing; who among his brothers would?

He held it out with a curve of his mouth that he hadn’t intended, and General Obi-Wan laughed, reaching out to take the heavy fabric. “Never thought I’d see this again,” he said, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Don’t mention it, Sir,” Cody said, the feel of the fabric engraved into his memory, the warmth of it leaving an ache in his gut that never really went away.

#

Their lives weren’t always fighting and bloodshed. Just most of the time. Each month Cody spent out in the galaxy saw them on another world, it seemed. There were always more droids, always another Seperatist plot, except the rare times when there  _ wasn’t _ .

They ended up on a small moon orbiting a gas giant, once; crash-landed, in fact, but everyone had lived. The locals were the friendly sort, offering them a place to stay while they got airborne again. They were invited for a dinner with the local ruler - he and Obi-Wan, specifically, the rest of the troopers taken to a well-appointed house.

The locals were a short folk with iridescent skin. They had too many eyes; Cody was never sure which set he was supposed to be looking into. But that didn’t really matter. They took to General Kenobi well enough.

Most people did.

He smiled and spoke with his smooth Coruscanti accent and they were eating a finer meal than Cody would have even been able to imagine within hours. He felt out-of-place in his armor, the first time that had ever happened, as everyone else moved around in gauzy finery.

“You’re doing fine,” General Kenobi told him, when a second course was served on dishware so thin it looked like it might snap from the weight of the food. He cut Cody a look and a smile. “Do try to relax. They’re  _ not  _ trying to kill us, I promise.”

“Noted, Sir.” Cody said, matching his low tone. General Kenobi was wearing his armor and robes, as well, but he looked different in them. Relaxed. Cody wondered, absently, if this was the way he looked in his quarters after missions. He killed that line of thought before it could proceed, relieved when a slight woman came around the table and placed a cup by his elbow.

He had no idea what was in it - it smelled sharp - but he needed something to occupy hands and thoughts. He took a drink as she moved past him to Obi-Wan, and flinched when everyone else at the table immediately cheered, reached for  _ their  _ cups, drank, and then turned to the closest person, pulling them in for a kiss.

Cody stared, cup still clenched in his hand, aware of a certain chilling in the air as everyone else turned to look at him. The leader, a diminutive woman with shimmering eyes, frowned, and said, “You do not partake in the  _ i’lkithan’nar _ ?”

She made a sign over her chest when she said the word. All the rest of her people copied her.

“I’m sorry,” General Kenobi said, his own cup still in hand, “we’re not familiar with the  _ i’lkithan’nar _ \--” he said the word perfectly, despite only hearing it once, mimicking the gesture “--we meant no disrespect. Please, could you tell me what’s--”

“You must partake,” the leader insisted. “To ignore it is to displease our ancestors.”

Cody glanced around the room. He was fairly certain they could take everyone currently sitting around the table, perhaps with their eyes closed and their hands tied behind their backs. But General Kenobi didn’t seem to be tensing for a fight. He only said, “I see. Is it too late for us to partake?”

The leader frowned, and then shook her head. “No,” she said, “since you are strangers here, you may proceed.”

“Most generous of you,” General Kenobi said, with a smile, turning to Cody. “Well, Commander. Needs must.” He arched an eyebrow, and Cody’s thoughts abruptly shorted out, because certainly the General was not suggesting--

Except he  _ was _ , leaning forward while Cody sat there frozen, brushing his mouth across Cody’s, a barely there touch of soft warmth that was gone in a heartbeat. He  _ winked _ , afterwards, settling back into his chair and turning to their hosts with a wide smile. “Are your ancestors pleased?”

The leader gave a grave nod, some of the tension in the air dissipating. Cody tried to remember how to breathe. He operated on auto-pilot, setting the cup down as steadily as he could, taking another bite, heart kicking at his ribs when someone  _ else  _ drank. They cheered again, and General Kenobi nudged him in the side, lifting his own cup, drinking, before turning to Cody with an expectant look.

General Kenobi kissed him, and Cody watched him, eyes open, enchanted by the way his eyelashes rested against his cheeks, by the brush of his beard, by the contrasting, impossible softness of his mouth.

They kissed perhaps a dozen times, until the cups were drained and not refilled. Cody kept still through all of them, ignoring the strange reflexes from his spine that urged him to reach out, to curl fingers around General Kenobi’s head, holding him in place. He kept his back straight and held his breath, each time, because it was the only way he could keep from rising from his seat and pressing much, much closer.

And, afterwards, as they were led to their rooms, General Kenobi said, “Thank you for your assistance tonight, Commander.”

He looked unmoved. Perhaps he’d kissed lots of people. Cody wouldn’t be surprised. He couldn’t help but imagine that many people would want to kiss the General. Perhaps it didn’t leave him aching inside, his mouth still tingling. Cody swallowed, “Anytime, sir,” he said, and his voice sounded different to his own ears.

Perhaps it sounded different to General Kenobi, too, because he hesitated a bit mid-step, before resuming his pace. They did not kiss again, outside Cody’s quarters. General Kenobi only bade him good night and pleasant dreams.

Cody stared at the ceiling of the room, laying ontop of his blankets, his heart racing unnaturally fast, and barely slept at all. 

#

Cody expected, vaguely, that he might get used to the heat inside his skin brought out by General Kenobi. After all, he got used to destroying droids, to watching his brothers die, to going without sleep, or food, or proper medical treatment.

And he did, after a fashion. He got better at controlling the reactions of his body, at the very least. He got better at thinking even when General Kenobi bent over a battle plan, his hair falling forward and his expression set in concentration, a little grin sitting on his mouth as he came up with a plan that would take apart the enemy, so competent and capable and  _ insane  _ that Cody wanted--

Well. He got very good at pushing those wants down. He excelled at maintaining his professionalism. At doing the job in front of him, even if that job was holding the line while General Kenobi tried to fight half an army on his own and  _ succeeded _ .

And, afterwards, he was there to pull one of General Kenobi’s arms over his shoulders, ignoring protests of, “Oh, Commander, I’m fine, you don’t need to--”

“I’m taking you to the infirmary, Sir,” Cody cut in, when General Kenobi took a step and gasped, an ugly little wet sound. “You need to be checked out.”

General Kenobi shook his head, as though he weren’t leaning the majority of his weight against Cody’s side. “There’s still the right flank, it needs stabilized--”

“I’ve got men handling it,” Cody cut in, again, because they’d been fighting beside one another for nearly a year, by that point. He knew very well that if he  _ didn’t  _ cut in, General Kenobi  _ would  _ charge off, ignoring whatever things were broken under his skin, and undoubtedly  _ would  _ stabilize the right flank, likely nearly dying three times in the process.

“Oh, well,” General Kenobi said, taking another step, and Cody cursed when one of his knees buckled. “In that case,” he rasped, still sounding unconcerned as Cody picked him bodily up, “I leave things in your capable hands.”

General Kenobi was unconscious by the time Cody got him to the medical tent, head hanging back, bleeding through his robes. The medics cut Cody a dark look, as though it were  _ his  _ fault that the General was a madman who had no regard for his personal safety, snapping, “Bring him this way, here, put him here.”

Cody put him on a medical bed, watching them peel away robes, and it was the first time he’d really seen the General without them. He looked…

Smaller than Cody expected. They were roughly of a height, he and the General. But it didn’t seem that way, seeing pale skin covered in blood, a few ugly wounds that the medics were sealing up as hurriedly as they could.

Cody had imagined seeing General Kenobi’s skin before, but there was no kick of want at the rapidly rising and falling chest, the sharp jut of hipbones - he wasn’t eating enough - the copper hair matted down by blood on his chest and stomach.

His radio buzzed in his ear with news of the battle. Cody shook his head, turned on his heel, and left the tent.

#

Cody made the effort to take care of his General. It was not, technically, part of his orders. But he was supposed to do everything he could to secure victory for the Republic. They obviously won more battles when General Kenobi was there. Therefore, it made sense to ensure he stayed alive and well.

Wanting to keep him well and actually managing it were two seperate beasts, however. Fortunately, Cody had received extensive training in planning and handling complicated enemy combatants.

So, he waged war on General Kenobi’s drive to get himself killed. He’d had a year of experience in the field and special training from General Kenobi himself, so he felt the campaign had a good chance of success. It would likely be an extended effort. He began planning for a seige almost immediately.

Sometimes it was as simple as dragging General Kenobi off of a battlefield. Sometimes it involved convincing him to go put his head down, or shoving a plate of rations at him. General Kenoni would eat if someone brought him food and gave it to him, almost automatically. Left to his own devices, he skipped meals, distracted by a dozen other concerns. 

Sometimes it involved walking into a room and finding General Kenobi staring at nothing, back rigidly straight, arms folded tight over his chest. “General?” Cody asked, because there was nothing in his expression, in a way that was almost frightening.

“Commander,” General Kenobi said, not glancing his way, voice modulated into complete blankness. “How can I help you?”

Cody shivered down his spine, taking another step closer. He’d brought along a cup of caff and offered it out. It took General Kenobi a moment to focus on it, and then he slowly unwound an arm, taking the cup with a hand that was trembling, just a little.

Cody swallowed, aching in his chest, a pain not his own brought into his body. “General,” he said, quietly, “everything alright?”

“Oh, yes.” General Kenobi looked towards him, smiled, with eyes that didn’t quite focus, like he wasn’t looking at anything in the room. “Of course.” He wasn’t drinking the caff, just holding it, fingers pressing too tight against the cup.

Cody couldn’t remember anything spectacularly terrible happening in the last twenty-four hours. It had just been more of the same. Perhaps too much more of the same. “You slept recently, sir?” he asked, reaching out and taking the caff away again. General Kenobi didn’t fight him on it, letting him take the still-full cup.

General Kenobi shrugged. “I’m sure I have,” he said. “We should be reaching our destination soon. I should--”

“Not that soon, sir,” Cody interrupted, reaching out and gripping his arm. “Come on. You need to get your head down.”

“Oh, no, I can’t.” General Kenobi smiled up at him, eyes tired. “I have reports to file, still. I just sat down for a moment.”

“I’ve got them,” Cody said, tugging him out into the hall and turning him. 

General Kenobi made a tired sound. “It’s my responsibility,” he said, but there didn’t seem to be that much fight in him. Cody nodded at the troopers they passed in the halls, steering him towards his quarters. “I really can’t sleep.”

“Sure you can, sir.” Cody waved the door open and guided him inside, over to his cot. “You’re halfway there already.” He sat the now-cold caff on a desk. 

“I don’t appreciate being managed,” General Kenobi said, and Cody didn’t need the Force to know he wasn’t telling the entirety of the truth. “I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

Cody nudged him towards his bunk, and said, “Yes, sir,” as he sank down onto the mattress. “Of course.”

General Kenobi gave him a look, one eyebrow arched. It would have been more effective if not for the dark circles under his eyes. “Wake me in a half-hour,” he said.

“Will do, sir,” Cody said, backing towards the door, unsure when he’d developed the nerve to do any of the things he’d done in the last five clicks. Maybe all those battles had completely fried out his fear response and judgement centers. 

They must have, because he left the General to sleep for almost three hours.

#

Sometimes, General Kenobi ended up taking care of him, instead. Cody was never sure exactly how the two of them survived the crash of a troop transport over one desert world or another. All he really registered was the dead bodies of all his brothers as General Kenobi pulled him out of the twisted husk of metal and blood, out beneath the blazing hot suns, out onto the burning sand.

“How far are we from the DZ?” Cody asked, and coughed, tasting blood in the back of his throat. A bad sign, to be sure. 

General Kenobi stood over him, one hand braced on the shuttle and blood slicking down the side of his face as he held up a pair of macrobinoculars. “Not that far,” he said, and Cody had been around him long enough to know this was an instance of not quite lying while very much avoiding the truth.

“How far, General?” he rasped, feeling blood creeping through the seams of his armor.

“We can make it,” General Kenobi said, which was  _ also  _ not an answer. “Stay here. I’m going to see what supplies we have.” He ducked back into the transport, leaving Cody leaning against the hull. There was no way he was going anywhere. Not with his left leg bent in so many interesting angles.

General Kenobi emerged from the transport again after a moment. He’d shed his cloak and his other tunic. Cody could see the blood soaking through the undertunic. Whatever injury it came from was ignored as General Kenobi slung a few canteens over his shoulders.

“Send someone back for me,” Cody said, swallowing, looking away from him, out across the sands. A dozen of his brothers were dead inside the transport. What was one more? Besides, he was pretty sure the head injury he had taken was going to do him in.

“Don’t be foolish,” General Kenobi said, crouching beside him. “You’re coming with me.”

Cody snorted, looking over at him. “I’m not going anywhere, sir.” He gestured at his leg, and General Kenobi only shrugged.

“It’s going to be an unpleasant trip,” he said, “and for that you have my apologies. But I’m certainly not going to leave you here.” He met Cody’s gaze dead-on, nothing but calm certainty in his expression. Peace. Serenity.

Cody shook his head. “No. I’ll stay here. Keep scavengers away from the bodies until you get back.”

“I was not, actually, opening the matter for discussion,” General Kenobi said, flashing him a smile. “The sun is going down, so we’re going to leave now. Get as far as we can before it comes up again. With any luck, we’ll find some shelter before that.” Which meant he thought they wouldn’t make it to the DZ after hiking an entire night.

“You’ll never make it hauling me along,” Cody gritted out, and General Kenobi only smiled more widely, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Have a little faith, Commander,” he said, and reached out, pulling Cody across his shoulders in one easy movement and rising to his feet. The movement put pressure on all kinds of things inside Cody’s chest that hurt. He bit his tongue to cut off a scream. “I am sorry,” the General said, and sounded like he meant it.

“Leave me here,” Cody managed to pant out, as they took their first steps away. General Kenobi might make it without him, might survive.  _ With  _ him…

He was ignored as they set off across the dunes.

#

General Kenobi carried him through the night, through a cold that crept through Cody’s skin and settled into his bones. Things started following them, at some point. Cody watched creatures watch them from the crests of the sand dunes. Saw beasts following in their wake, muzzles bent to the blood trail they were leaving behind.

Nothing attacked them. Not while they were moving. 

He didn’t like to imagine what was going to happen when they stopped. And sooner or later, they would have to stop.

But General Kenobi kept going until the sky started to stain purple and pink, only then stumbling to a stop and collapsing to his knees. Cody bit back a cry, gasping as he was shifted to the side and lowered onto the sand. General Kenobi fell forward, then, tried to catch himself on his hands, and ended up on his elbows, panting down against the sand.

“Sir?” Cody rasped, when he no longer felt like screaming over the tremendous pain from his leg.

“I’m fine,” General Kenobi lied, as though his tunic had not ridden up enough for Cody to see the wounds beneath it. He stayed slumped forward for a moment, before pushing himself up, taking one of the canteens, and holding it out to Cody.

“How far away are we?” Cody asked, after taking a deep drink and handing it back.

“We’ll start again at nightfall,” General Kenobi said, pulling him further into the scant shadows offered by the skeletal trees. “Rest, now.”

“General--” And soft fingers pressed against his forehead, exhaustion lashing suddenly through him, sending him down into dreams he hadn’t wanted. His last sight was General Kenobi’s tired eyes, the desert sun turning his hair to brilliant copper.

#

Cody woke up staring at the sand and in incredible amounts of pain. It was dark and cold again. He felt feverishly hot. “Welcome back,” General Kenobi said, though Cody didn’t think he had said anything. They were moving again.

“Sir?” he managed to slur. 

“It’s alright,” General Kenobi said. “We’re making excellent time.” He spoke as though his right knee were not threatening to give with each step. As though Cody couldn’t hear the rattle in his breathing. As though most of the canteens were not gone. 

Cody faded out again, between one step and the next. When next he opened his eyes, the sun was coming up again. He said, softly, “General, I can’t feel my fingers.”

He couldn’t feel his lips, either. It was difficult to hold one thought in place. Everything that he could feel hurt. “We’re almost there,” General Kenobi said, panting. “We’re not stopping this morning, don’t worry. Keep talking to me, Commander.”

Cody stared at the sand for a moment. It seemed to be moving around a lot, forming strange, upsetting patterns. “What should I talk about, General?”

“I don’t know,” he panted. “Anything. Something distracting.”

Cody considered the instructions. His mind was swimming, it was difficult to snag one clear thought from the swirl. But he knew what distracted him. He said, “I don’t know what color to call your eyes, sir.”

General Kenobi made a soft sound, amused or surprised. He said, “They’re just blue.”

“No.” Cody shook his head and then stopped, because it made him want to vomit. “No, they’re not. I’ve seen blue things. None of them. Look like your eyes. Bluer than the sky.”

“That’s…” It was a rare thing to strike General Kenobi speechless. He seemed to have managed. He wished he felt conscious enough to register the experience. 

“I saw you. On Kamino,” Cody said, into the quiet. It seemed to flow from the thought of his eyes. “When you came. You were all wet from the storm.”

“I wish it would storm now,” General Kenobi said, rasping. 

“Never saw anyone who looked like you,” Cody continued. He couldn’t quite remember what they were talking about, or why they were even talking. His mind felt like it was moving in the same way the sand was, slow and hungry, dragging them down. “Love looking at you. Distracting.” Yes, that was what they’d been discussing. Something distracting. “Distracts me.”

General Kenobi froze for a moment, and then resumed walking, swaying on his feet. He said, quietly, “Perhaps we shouldn’t speak anymore,” he voice ragged.

“Yes, sir,” Cody slurred, the sun beating down on him, cooking him in his armor. He listened to the panting gasp of General Kenobi’s breathing, until blackness came up and took him away again to somewhere cool.

#

When Cody woke up again he was still cold. He was lying on his back, staring up at something white. There were voices, here and there. Familiar voices. His brothers. The sounds of droids. He became aware of an absence of pain from his leg and shifted up, looking down to find himself covered with a sheet, hooked up to machines and fluids.

“Hey there, Commander,” a medic said, hurrying up from the side. “Don’t move too much. That leg is broken in three places.”

“Where’s General Kenobi?” he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face, feeling stubble across his cheeks. He remembered, vaguely, their walk through the desert. So much of it was just a blur.

“Couldn’t say, sir,” the medic said, checking his fluids. “He brought you here and kept going. He’s out on the lines somewhere, I suppose. We were in a bad way, before he made it back.”

Cody sat up, scowling, reaching for the tubes going into his arms, the medic making panicked noises at him. “Sir, you really can’t get up, your leg--”

“It feels fine,” Cody lied. He’d learned from the best. They’d braced it, it was wrapped with metal and bacta all the way down, keeping the bones where they were supposed to be. He pulled on the tubes, grabbing a bandage to press over the inside of his arm as he leveraged himself out of the bed.

“Sir!” the medic called, chasing after him. “You really must come back, you’re severely dehydrated and you have an infection. It’s very severe, I need you to--”

Cody found his armor set to one side. Most of it looked tpo battered to wear. He’d find more. He snagged his blaster on his way out the door, cursing Jedis and Generals and Obi-Wan Kenobi, in particular.

He found General Kenobi by the end of the battle, putting a blaster bolt through a droid trying to cut the General down. Kenobi looked at him, smiling, the expression cracking the mask of blood that covered half his face. He said, “Commander, good to see you on your feet again.”

Cody blew away another droid, scowling. “What are you doing here?”

Kenobi looked at him and then away, smile falling off of his face as the lines around them started cheering. He shrugged, making an abortive move to curl an arm around his ribs, and said, “What I have to do, Commander.”

“You’re going to the medics,” Cody said, and Kenobi shrugged.

“Probably a good idea,” he said, and they leaned on one another, limping off of the field of battle, leaving behind the dead and the fallen.

#

Kenobi made no mention of what Cody had said while they trekked across the desert. He didn’t mention the color of his eyes, or how much Cody perhaps liked to look at him. Cody didn’t bring it up, either, though the memories of the words hung around his neck, a constant reminder, a sense that it might be brought up at any moment.

He thought about apologizing, but he had no idea how to go about it.

They hadn’t been trained in apologies.

So he just… went about his duties. Maintained his professionalism. Tried not to think too much about the fact that Kenobi had carried him across a desert, the strength in his back and his bones, the determination, to save a clone.

Cody could have been replaced. They’d all been taught that much, at least. Another Commander would arrive, would fit into place at General’s Kenobi’s right hand, so there was no great disruption to the war effort.

Apparently, that hadn’t mattered to General Kenobi. It did things, to the space inside Cody’s chest, the knowledge that General Kenobi had carried him out of the expanse of sand. Maybe he would have done it for any of the troopers. Probably he would. That was just the kind of man he was, but...

Sometimes Cody imagined, despite his best efforts, things happening differently. He imagined that he admitted that he enjoyed looking, and General Kenobi setting him down, asking, “Oh, I distract you?” Kissing him again, there on the hot sand, so moved by the admission that he--

Well.

Kenobi hadn’t. He  _ didn’t _ .

They made war beside one another, and Cody did what he could to make sure General Kenobi stayed alive, and he tried not to think, too much, about exactly what color General Kenobi’s eyes were.

#

The war wouldn’t end. Every time they gained a foothold, every time they snagged some momentum, the Separatists hit back harder, pushed more, struck back. One year had turned into two and stretched towards three. 

Cody stayed right where the Senate had decreed he belonged, beside General Kenobi, leading the 212th when the General was sent off on missions where they couldn’t follow. He got, over time, to know General Skywalker very well.

Skywalker was around as much as he was away. They worked closely with the 501st most of the time. Cody coordinated efforts with Captain Rex and got to know him, too, got to know all of his brothers in the 501st.

It often felt like they were under his command, too. He outranked Rex, anyway, and their Jedi were half the time off trying to save the galaxy on their own.

He even got the chance to know their Padawan. Rex, he noticed, tended to walk at Ahsoka’s right, instead of shadowing Skywalker. But perhaps Skywalker was too wild by far to be followed in such a way.

The only one who seemed equipped to keep up with him was General Kenobi. They moved together like one person in two bodies, sometimes, limping out of impossible situations leaning on one another.

Cody wondered, sometimes, watching them with one another, what they were to one another. He wondered at least until he caught sight of Skywalker and a woman embracing in the Senate during a stop on Coruscant. She called him Ani, and he held her close, and Cody moved on without saying anything.

He looked after General Kenobi, and half of that involved looking after General Skywalker.

He put the event out of his mind, shooing away some other troopers moving down the hall. 

#

The want he felt for General Kenobi never went away, but he banked it. There was nothing to be  _ done  _ about it. He wouldn’t know what to do even if there were. They had a war to fight, and he’d be moved somewhere else if anyone ever found out he was emotionally compromised - had been sent off Kamino emotionally compromised - and so he made sure no one ever did.

He followed orders. He did his job. He kept General Kenobi alive, even if it meant following him blindly through a collapsing mine, the rest of their squad fleeing ahead of them, something gigantic trying to wedge itself through behind them.

“Almost there, Commander,” General Kenobi said over his shoulder, dodging falling rocks without looking, the faint reflection off of his robes all Cody could see in the dark. Cody had no sense of the Force to help him dodge rocks. They bounced off his armor and his head; his helmet was long gone, swallowed into the gullet of the beast following them.

Cody snorted, half a laugh. General Kenobi’s idea of “almost there” had never improved. It had always been incredibly incorrect. Cody only hoped that they didn’t have another day of running ahead of them. He was still thinking that when a fresh tumble of debris across his head made him look up, in time to watch the roof of the tunnel come apart in earnest.

They really were almost out. He could see sunlight up ahead. Kriff if the General wasn’t right, for once. Kriff if they weren’t going to make it, anyway.

Cody couldn’t spare the breath to swear aloud, thinking about distractions and being carried for two days across General Kenobi’s shoulders, and the weight of a mountain coming down on them. He dug out extra speed from  _ somewhere _ and shoved forward even as General Kenobi was turning to look at him, eyes wide, maybe picking up something from his head.

Cody hit him in the shoulders, shoving him, and it would probably have worked, too, except General Kenobi  _ grabbed him _ and tried to haul him along as well, and instead of shoving the General to safety, the mine came down around them both.

For a long moment, there was nothing but noise and darkness. Cody didn’t even feel the pain until after the noise stopped and the world decided it wouldn’t be moving quite so much. He coughed, after, and regretted it, because pain lashed up through his body, radiating from his ribs. He groaned, going as still as possible, and from beneath him, General Kenobi groaned, “Commander?”

“You alright, sir?” he asked, because that seemed important, there in the dark. The mountain had come down on top of them, closing them into a truly tiny space. It had caught on something over Cody, instead of crushing him into a paste. He assumed that the thing it had caught on was the brace currently stuck through his ribs, in his back and out his chest.

“You’re hurt,” General Kenobi said, which wasn’t an answer. He reached up, fingers bumping against Cody’s jaw, down to his shoulder, down further, freezing as he found the piece of metal. “Force, Commander--”

“I’m alright,” Cody lied. He’d learned how from General Kenobi. He panted around the pain. Talking made it hurt worse. He dropped his head, it felt so heavy, and it was convenient that General’s Kenobi’s shoulder was right there, a perfect rest for his aching head. “It didn’t get you?”

“No, it seems to have missed me,” General Kenobi said, and Cody stretched out a hand, moving it across the floor in the dark until he mapped out Kenobi’s side. There was no pole going through him. He’d fallen to the side, under Cody; it had missed him by, perhaps, an inch. General Kenobi sucked in a little breath beneath him, there in the dark, his expression invisible.

“Good,” Cody managed, and closed his eyes. He wasn’t bleeding out at the moment. The girder was taking care of that, holding his blood inside. But he  _ was  _ going into shock. And there  _ was  _ a limited amount of air down under the mountain. He wondered how long he’d live.

“What do you--” General Kenobi started, and cut himself off, making a soft, surprised little sound. He continued, after a moment, as dust fell down above them, falling across the back of Cody’s armor and sliding down his neck, “Anakin is coming for us. He knows we’re down here.”

“Knows you’re down here,” Cody corrected, absently. He was half-surprised Skywalker hadn’t been running through the tunnels with General Kenobi. Usually, they couldn’t be separated. He doubted a mountain would be able to keep Skywalker at bay for long, which meant that, at least, General Kenobi wouldn’t suffocate down in the dark.

“You’re going to be fine, Commander,” General Kenobi said, in the same tone he always used when he was lying; calm and soothing. Cody felt the General’s hand, pressed up against his ribs, fingers on either side of the girder sticking through him. Some of the pain went away at the touch. The Force, probably.

He shook his head, dragging his forehead back and forth across General Kenobi’s robes. “Not this time,” he managed to grit out. There had to be too much damage inside him. There was no way the medics were going to waste the resources to patch him up. He was vaguely aware that he wasn’t thinking clearly, or was thinking  _ too  _ clearly, without any of the barriers in the way.

A rock had hit him in the back of the head, during the collapse. He was starting to think it had done a significant amount of damage. The medics had warned him against further head injuries, after his trek through the desert with General Kenobi. They’d talked about worsening damage. Problems bacta couldn’t solve. He...

He could hear more rubble shifting above them, or imagined he could, anyway. It wasn’t going to matter for him. He said, “You remember Luigh III?”

He felt General Kenobi shift beneath him. “The moon?” he asked, sounding distracted. “We must have visited, oh… almost two years ago.”

“That’s the place,” Cody confirmed. He moved a bit, tilting his head. It let his nose brush General Kenobi’s throat, the edges of his beard. It felt nice. He felt dizzy. Drifting away. The warmth radiating off of General Kenobi’s skin barely registered. “You kissed me.”

“They had a ritual, yes,” General Kenobi said. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. “Commander, you should conserve your strength.”

Cody didn’t care much about conserving his strength. He couldn’t imagine what he’d be conserving it  _ for _ . He marshalled the energy he had left, lifting some of his weight - he had to be crushing General Kenobi, though he’d heard no complaints - and finding the side of his head in the darkness. “Commander, what--”

Cody felt across General Kenobi’s face, leaning closer in the utter darkness on touch alone, and kissed him. Every touch on Luigh III had been brief and soft. Cody didn’t have the control left for brief and soft. He kissed Kenobi deep and desperate, the way he’d dreamed of doing so many times, because he was going to die under this mountain.

He felt General Kenobi jerk beneath him, felt him suck in a breath and hold it. And then one of his hands came up in the dark, the pads of his fingers sliding across Cody’s cheek, gentle, changing the angle, and, oh, it was better, all at once.

Cody kissed him until he saw spots of impossible color behind his shut eyes, and then sagged down. “Commander,” General Kenobi said, against his ear, his hand curled around the back of Cody’s neck, protective and safe. “Commander, I need you to stay awake.”

Cody shook his head, face buried against General Kenobi’s neck, and it wasn’t such a bad way to die, really. It could have been so much worse. He was just going to slip away. The pain wasn’t even so bad, thanks to whatever General Kenobi was doing with the Force.

“Commander,” General Kenobi snapped it, like an order, and it threw switches in Cody’s head, made him try to come to attention. He just couldn’t. He let out a rattling breath. “Cody,” Kenobi rasped, just his name, no title, and it hit him, somewhere in his gut, dragging him back towards consciousness, impossibly. “Cody, I need you to stay with me.”

“Always with you, sir,” he slurred, but couldn’t keep his word, because the darkness reached up and took him.

#

Cody only heard later about the way Skywalker and Ahsoka lifted away a mountain to get them out. Apparently, it was one of the most impressive things his brothers had ever seen. Cody was unconscious through all of it, including General Kenobi carrying him to a medic and seeing him thrown into the bacta.

He woke up much later, confused to be alive and with medics tsking about terrible effects of the things he kept doing to his brain. He woke with a set of brand new scars set into his body, one on his chest, the other on his back. He rubbed his fingers across the smooth flesh, staring at them in the mirror to avoid thinking about the things that he’d done.

He’d have never said what he said, never kissed General Kenobi again, if he’d thought he was going to walk away from the entire thing alive.

But he had, impossibly. Skywalker really  _ had  _ moved a mountain to rescue his old Master. And, somehow, the medics had been convinced to spare the resources to fix him. And now he was back in his quarters, alive and relatively well, remembering the taste of General Kenobi’s mouth and his little exhalation of surprise when Cody had told him all his secrets.

Cody turned away from the mirror, banging a fist against the wall, and cursing himself for a fool.

#

It wasn’t much of a surprise, when General Kenobi called him in for a meeting. Cody adjusted his armor to perfection, straightened his back, and went. He’d lived for years with the knowledge that sooner or later someone was going to realize he was emotionally compromised by his General, that he wanted things he couldn’t have.

Somehow, he’d never considered that the person doing the realizing would be General Kenobi.

He figured he’d be reassigned. Perhaps even sent back to Kamino to train shinies. Maybe he’d be decommissioned. He tucked all those thoughts away, ignoring the way they made him feel like he was about to charge into an ambush, and walked through the halls.

General Kenobi opened the door right as he reached it and said, “Come in, Commander.”

Cody raised his chin, helmet under one arm, and went in. The General’s quarters had grown more spartan over the years. There was nothing in them, anymore, besides battle plans and a bottle of stims, sitting out in the open on his desk. The General set down a pad and looked over when Cody stepped in, the door closing behind him.

General Kenobi didn’t quite look at him, gaze shifting past, over his shoulder. Cody braced for whatever was coming next, and wasn’t prepared for it when Kenobi said, “I’d like to drop ranks for this discussion, Cody.”

Cody blinked. This wasn’t the cool, regretful dressing down he’d expected. “Sir?”

Kenobi’s mouth twitched, half into a smile. “Obi-Wan, for now, if you don’t mind. You need to be able to speak freely.”

Cody stared at him, heart beating triple-time in his chest. He never even thought of the General as “Obi-Wan” in his mind. It wasn’t-- But he’d always followed General Kenobi’s orders and requests. He cleared his throat. “Of course. Obi-Wan.”

Saying his name sent a sharp thrill down Cody’s spine. It felt like something that couldn’t be taken back. It made Obi-Wan blink, rapidly, a few times. It made him shift, folding his arms over his chest.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, and cleared his throat. “We need to have a discussion about… what happened in the caves.”

“It’s my job to look after you,” Cody said, the brief and only defense he’d managed to marshall for himself, during his recovery.

Obi-Wan snorted, cutting him a sharp glance. “It’s not, actually, you know. There’s nothing in your orders where it says you need to offer my safety any special consideration.”

“Well, there should be,” Cody said, with a frown. It seemed pointless to try to dissemble his reactions. Obi-Wan had to know exactly how he felt by that point, had to know all of his secrets. And they’d dropped rank, hadn’t they?

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning his shoulders against the wall. He said, quietly, “This isn’t the discussion we’re here to have.” He took a breath and looked Cody in the eyes. “You have… your feelings, for me, they’re--”

“Yes,” Cody cut in, because he was always looking out for Obi-Wan, and someone needed to spare him from trying to complete that sentence.

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Yes what?”

“Yes, I have feelings for you,” saying the words so clear and crisp left him feeling shivery inside. It felt like relief, like a weight coming off of his shoulders. Obi-Wan jerked, as though the words had physically struck him, his eyes widening. “You know that already.”

Obi-Wan glanced to the side again, nodded. “I--yes. I felt--” He swallowed. “For how long?”

Cody’s mouth crooked up. “I saw you on Kamino,” he said. “Standing there soaking wet.” He shrugged. “Must have started right around then.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, opened them again after a moment. “These past few years must have been very difficult for you. Working beside me. I can--”

“Working beside you has been the only redeeming aspect of this entire kriffing war,” Cody said, because they’d dropped ranks, because he might never get the chance to say it again. “I don’t want to be reassigned, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know you might not want me around, but I can maintain my professionalism, you don’t have to worry--”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said, drifting a step closer, away from the wall, “that’s--”

“I know I overstepped, but I thought I was going to die.” He’d been so sure of it. He still wasn’t quite sure how he’d lived. All he’d wanted was to kiss Obi-Wan properly, once, before he died. And he didn’t want to be sent away. It had made him cut Obi-Wan off twice, but he didn’t want to hear the words, didn’t want the sword to fall. If he could just make Obi-Wan understand that nothing had to change… “I don’t expect anything back from you, I just want to--”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan said again, closer, but Cody wasn’t looking at him, had to just get the words out.

“--fight beside you, I won’t make things difficult, I--”

“Oh, for the sake of the Force,” Obi-Wan cut in, again, and put a hand on his cheek, “be quiet.” Cody’s jaw snapped shut. He looked over, intending to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze, and sucked in a little breath when Obi-Wan leaned in and kissed his mouth.

It was brief. There and gone. Obi-Wan shifted back while Cody’s head went totally silent. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, expression full of conflict, and Cody grabbed the front of his robes, pulling him back.

Obi-Wan’s hands landed on his shoulders, on his armor - Cody wished he could feel them on skin. He wished he weren’t wearing gloves, because he couldn’t feel Obi-Wan’s hair. But, oh, he could taste Obi-Wan’s mouth, the electric thrill of kissing him grounding down his skin, filling his whole body with light.

His lungs ached, when Obi-Wan finally shifted back, turning his face to the side. Obi-Wan’s face was reddened; there were flecks of color in his eyes, ones that Cody had never been close enough to see before. He asked, his voice a rasp, “Sir?”

Obi-Wan laughed; Cody got to feel his laughter, his arm curled around Obi-Wan’s ribs. Obi-Wan cut him a look. Cody said, watching him, “I don’t understand.”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t explained very well, have I?” Obi-Wan took a breath and made to shift back. Cody tightened his grip, unthinkingly. He liked having Obi-Wan so close, and had no idea where this conversation was going. Obi-Wan rubbed his face. “I’ve grown… very fond of you, as well, Cody.”

The words felt like fireworks inside his chest, bright sparks of light and joy, impossible. He thought perhaps he was dreaming and hoped he wouldn’t wake up. He knew it wasn’t a dream when Obi-Wan grimaced, and continued, “But.”

“But,” Cody echoed, looking at the lines of exhaustion around Obi-Wan’s eyes, the white in the hair at his temples that hadn’t been there when they first met. The marks of war written all over him, his Jedi robes, the lightsaber at his belt.

“I’m a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, and moved back. Cody didn’t try to grab him again.

“Love isn’t forbidden among the Jedi,” Cody said, the words just there on his tongue, because he had, perhaps, looked it up. Perhaps he’d been interested, more than he should have been, with those considerations.

Obi-Wan crooked a smile at him. “It is not,” he said. “But you’re in my chain of command.” He took a breath, looking to the side. “I can have you transferred, but even then, it would be--”

“Don’t,” Cody rasped, because the idea of knowing that Obi-Wan was out fighting somewhere without him, the idea that he wouldn’t be there next time Obi-Wan threw himself into the meat grinder, was too horrifying to contemplate. “Don’t do that. I want to fight beside you.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, nodded. “I thought you might,” he said, and took another step back, calm reserve sliding over his features. “Which means this--” he gestured between them “--this has to be something we leave behind.”

The words cut and twisted inside his ribs. He knew they were true. He knew very well it would be inappropriate for Obi-Wan to - to go beyond what they had already done. It was likely inappropriate to leave Cody in his current position, but--

“I understand,” Cody said, his voice thick and terrible. He would have thought that knowing Obi-Wan felt some of the same things would be a comfort. But he felt only torn inside, aching and full of a strange and terrible pain.

He wanted. Knowing Obi-Wan wanted, too, only made the ache worse.

Obi-Wan swallowed. “Perhaps,” he said, staring at the far wall, “perhaps this war won’t last forever.”

Cody jerked his head up, the words a sudden promise of unexpected hope. “What?”

“And afterwards,” Obi-Wan continued, his posture perfect. “After the war, perhaps we could--”

Cody had to move forwards, had to grip him by the shoulders and kiss him, once more, because he could feel the chance to do it slipping away. Obi-Wan gripped his arms, warm and alive, offering Cody a future he’d never dared even hope for.

“After the war,” Cody said, when he pulled away, a promise against Obi-Wan’s lips.

He felt the curve of Obi-Wan’s mouth into a soft smile. “After the war,” he said, a promise that Cody held close when he had to turn and walk from Obi-Wan’s quarters, his heart racing terribly fast behind his ribs.  _ After the war _ , he thought, like a battle cry, the words echoing over and over in his mind.

#

Cody held onto  _ after the war  _ through blood and battle. He held onto  _ after the war  _ through injury and heartache. He held onto  _ after the war  _ through months, almost another year, fighting through each day of hell beside Obi-Wan.

They maintained their distance, they did their jobs. Cody wanted, fiercely, so many things, but he could wait for them. He could wait until  _ after the war _ to pull Obi-Wan close again, spending the intervening time making sure they both stayed alive.

They led the 212th to impossible victories and crushing defeats. Cody was there, with him, when he struck down General Grievous. And Obi-Wan did not say anything about  _ after the war _ when he smiled and took back his lightsaber, but his eyes danced and his smile was wider than Cody was used to.

He didn’t  _ need  _ to say anything about after the war, not with the driving force of the Separatist war effort lying in pieces behind them. Obi-Wan’s fingers brushed his, and something inside Cody eased, scattered ideas about the future unfolding all at once through his mind.

He was thinking about Obi-Wan’s eyes, staring after him, when a message came through directly from the Senate, and so Obi-Wan was the last person he saw in the final seconds when he was himself.

Something else continued onward in his body, after his mind twisted and reshaped itself around the orders issued directly into his brain, but it wasn’t Cody, anymore.

It didn’t care about blue eyes, or the precious beauty of a kiss.

It barely cared about after the war.

#

The war ended. CC-2224 found himself preoccupied by that fact at inappropriate times. The war ended, the Jedi traitors were soundly defeated, killed to protect the new Empire. They’d been dangerous, but their danger had been neutralized, and with their deaths there had come peace.

CC-2224 went about his duties, afterwards, without question or hesitation. For the most part. But sometimes he found himself staring at a pad or one of the faceless white masks beside his, with an itching sense that there was something he was supposed to be doing, some order he was supposed to be following.

After the war, there was something he’d been supposed to do.

He just couldn’t remember what it was.

It ate away at him, inside his mind, distracting him as he tried to go about his duties. The distraction spread, too, striking at the worst times. The first time he worked with Lord Vader he found himself waiting in expectation.

Someone else was supposed to be by Vader’s side, he felt oddly certain of it. 

But there was no one, and it was foolish, anyway. A flaw inside his head, probably. The medics told him there were some old injuries to his brain. They had to keep an eye on the damage. Probably a closer eye. Everyone knew Lord Vader worked alone. He always had.

#

CC-2224 paid little attention to civilians. They were unimportant, anyway. There were so many of them, nothing but irritants to be dealt with, one way or another. He paid slightly more attention to the troublesome rebels who threatened the integrity of the Empire, but only as much as necessary to put them in the ground.

He cleared out a nest of the vermin - like a dozen other such nests - with nothing but efficiency in his mind, until he turned a corner and came face to face with some filthy piece of scum. A boy, he noted, holding a weapon - a stick - in one hand, with filthy reddish hair and--

CC-2224 caught the boy’s arm in one hand when the traitor tried to run, no doubt attempting to lead him into a trap. The boy snarled up as CC-2224 pushed him against the wall, and he should have been pulling the trigger on his blaster, and he would, but--

“Your eyes,” CC-2224 demanded, barely recognizing his own voice, horrified by the breach of the rules of combat. “What color are they?”

The boy struggled against his hold, gasping out, “What? They’re - they’re blue, please, please, let me go, I--”

CC-2224 flinched when a blaster went off over his shoulder. The boy went quiet, one of his blue eyes gone, nothing but a smoking hole. CC-2224 took his hand off the boy, letting him crumble to the floor, nodding when the trooper at his back said, “That’s the last one, Sir. We’re ready to move out.”

#

CC-2224 did his best to ignore the flaws in his mental state. He certainly didn’t mention them. People disappeared, when they malfunctioned. His brain injuries were already a concern. But the idea that he was supposed to be doing something never went away. It just ate at him, until he had no choice but to dig into it further.

There was something he was supposed to be doing. Some bit of business unfinished. He went over his old missions, reports that he shouldn’t have looked at, really. What did the past matter? Besides, most of them were redacted.

But some pictures weren’t. Pictures from his missions. Pictures with General Kenobi.. He looked harmless enough, but that would be a trick. The Jedi wanted to look harmless. Friendly. 

General Kenobi had blue eyes. In some of the pictures, there was a man beside him. A man with a scar on his face. CC-2224 jerked his gaze away from the pictures, finding his teeth gritted together, so hard they hurt. He turned back to the mission reports.

The report for the last mission of the war he found in its entirety. He’d been on Utapau when he finally caught up with the Jedi traitor, General Kenobi. He’d been awarded special honours, for his actions. The Jedi had all been traitors, threats to the Empire, but Kenobi had been the worst of them, the leader of their corrupt war machine.

CC-2224 read over the records and then read them again and again and again and again and--

#

CC-2224 came back to himself with the taste of vomit in his mouth. He had something clenched in one hand. He glanced down at it, found a picture, one of the ones of General Kenobi. He was standing outside quarters they never used on the ship. He didn’t know who they were for. They must have been for  _ someone _ .

He waved a hand to open them, looking around a little space, bare of all touches of personality. There was an empty bottle of stims on the desk and he felt--  _ Something _ .

He backed out of the room and shut the door. There was something he was supposed to be doing. After the war. And the war was over. He was no closer to remembering what it  _ was _ , but he had noticed, in his reading of the report on Utapau, that there was no record of General Kenobi’s body being recovered.

He swallowed the taste of bile and turned away.

He didn’t return the picture to the archives. Instead, he brought it back to his quarters, spreading it out, smoothing the wrinkles methodically. Thoroughly. He took off his helmet and looked in the mirror, looked at the scar that matched the scar of the man in the picture with Kenobi.

Kenobi had been a monster. A war criminal. Intent on the destruction of the galaxy.

In the picture, CC-2224 was staring at him with an expression he didn’t recognize. One he’d never seen before.

He shuddered, pulled his helmet back on, and decided to do some research.

#

General Kenobi was the worst of the Jedi traitors. He’d plotted against the Chancellor and the Republic armies. He’d been the driving force behind the Jedi’s grab for power during the war. He’d committed numerous war crimes, and gotten away with them.

He’d killed thousands. Maybe millions.

CC-2224 read over his records and the fact that they had no body grew to be a larger concern. The Jedi were full of tricks. They were conniving. They couldn’t be trusted. And no one had come forward to claim a definitive kill-shot on Kenobi.

Maybe he was still out there.

Maybe hunting him down was what CC-2224 was supposed to be doing. Maybe he’d get some peace, if he could just… finish the job.

#

CC-2224 had little time to pursue personal projects. They weren’t supposed to have personal projects. But he dreamed, sometimes, about a faceless man, about laughter, about pain and the feeling of someone carrying him under a blistering sun, and--

And he needed to complete his task. He needed to find out what he was supposed to do, after the war, so that he could return to his duties with a clear head. He dug around, looking for word of Kenobi, of anyone who fit his description.

#

According to regulations, CC-2224 should have reported it immediately when he caught word of a strange recluse on a desert world out on the Rim. Any rumors of Jedi activity were to be handled with utmost severity.

They were too dangerous. They had to be snuffed out immediately and thoroughly.

CC-2224 stared at the blurry picture provided to him by the bounty hunter - the man had copper hair, a beard, blue eyes - and blinked, because his eyes were burning and going blurry. He didn’t know why, scrubbing a hand across them, frowning in befuddlement at his wet skin.

There was something wrong with him. Something tied to General Kenobi. Something he was supposed to do after the war.

He paid the bounty hunter. He didn’t tell anyone what he’d learned, manipulating orders to head out into the Rim on his own.

#

Tatooine was a horrible world. CC-2224 didn’t like desert environments. They made his leg ache. He didn’t know why and shoved those concerns to the side. The bounty hunter had done good work, delivering a set of coordinates that led CC-2224 directly to a little hovel, far away from any signs of civilization.

He landed well back from the structure and sat in front of the controls for a long time, his hands clenched around them, unwilling to release. His eyes were malfunctioning again. The brain injury, maybe. He scrubbed at them and stood, stumbling.

Something was wrong with him. Something caused by General Kenobi. He drew his blaster and marched out of the ship. There was something he had to do. After the war. And the war was over and maybe it was as simple as completing the job, making sure he’d really killed General Kenobi, before he could do more damage to the galaxy.

The door to the little hut opened as he approached. It left him with a lurching sense that this had happened before, but that was impossible. A man stepped into the doorway, wearing plain robes, and his eyes were  _ so blue _ . He said, exhaustion echoing in his voice, “Please, go back. I don’t want to hurt you.”

CC-2224 couldn’t get enough air. Something was wrong with his helmet. He fumbled at the latches, pulling it off and dropping it to the sand so he could gulp at the air. He hurt, inside his chest and head. Some kind of Force trick, some kind of torture, it had to be--

Except General Kenobi flinched in the doorway and then laughed, terrible and choking, and said, “They would send you to do it, wouldn’t they? That sounds just about cruel enough.” He looked to the side, expression twisted, eyes closed, and reached for his belt.

He had a lightsaber there. He’d draw it and cut CC-2224 down. All his training said he needed to raise the blaster in his leaden arm and--

General Kenobi tossed the lightsaber to the sand and said, “Do it, then.”

CC-2224 took a step forward. Couldn’t seem to stop himself. There was something he needed to  _ do _ . The war was over. General Kenobi braced, straightening his shoulders, staring forward blankly. Waiting.

CC-2224 stared at him, blue eyes, copper hair, lines on his skin that were  _ familiar _ . His stomach clenched on nothing. Bile burned in his throat. He looked away, trying to bring up the blaster, gaze finding the lightsaber in the sand.

It was instinct and habit - instincts and habits he didn’t  _ have  _ \- to bend and pick it up. To reach out and offer it to General Kenobi. It felt like something he’d done a hundred times. A thousand. He was dizzy, terribly so, swaying when General Kenobi startled and said, “Cody?”

“Oh,” he said, feeling something hot running down the back of his throat, something in his mind snapping. The world tilted on its axis. Hands caught at him, but he barely felt them. The ground came up to catch him, even as hands stroked across his cheeks, and he rasped, “Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan - not General Kenobi - made a sound, curled over him. “Sh, sh,” he said, fingers running over CC-2224’s skin. He had not been touched in so long. It felt so good, and he was remembering things, so many things, all at once. “You’re hurt, that head injury--”

“War’s over,” he said, hearing the slur in his voice. The war was over. There was something he was supposed to do, something  _ they  _ were supposed to do.

“I’m going to--” Obi-Wan said, making to stand, and Cody caught him, pulling him back, so he could get a good look at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan was the first person he saw, after he came back to himself. And he did what he’d wanted to do the first time he saw Obi-Wan, years ago, on Kamino. He fisted a hand in the front of Obi-Wan’s robes and pulled him down and kissed him, there beneath the suns, sprawled over the sand.


End file.
